


More than a dream

by Darkhorse



Series: Jean's Wish [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Childbirth, M/M, Major medical handwave, Mpreg, Myriel as a doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhorse/pseuds/Darkhorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel of sorts to 'If someone else believed, would that make it real?', also a fill asking for Mpreg Valjean. Thanks to my two prompters</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reveal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theoreticallychaotic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoreticallychaotic/gifts).



> Fill for an old kink-meme prompt

The man's head snapped up from his paper, practically ringing and nearly falling of his head “I beg your pardon?”  
“You heard me Javert”  
He kept his temper, managing to stop himself from barking the words out“Say it again, for I swear my ears must be failing me.”  
“I am going... to... have... a... child”  
He swung out of his seat, knowing his eyes were angry, bitter on the old slights of childhood “Don't patronise me” Parade fashion, he started to pace, back and forth in the kitchen “This cannot happen”  
He felt Valjean's eyes on him, and saw the hurt accusation there even as he heard the sour answer “Well I'm sorry to have upset your life-plan's Inspector, but you played as much part in this as I did.”  
Javert shook his head distractedly, realising how it had sounded “That's not what I meant, Jean.” What he'd meant was that anatomically, biologically, it is impossible for males to carry children. But, being as impartial as some of his training had taught him to be, he could see how it had been taken the wrong way. He shot his partner a look, suddenly worried about the effect of his reaction. Valjean had sat at the table during his ramblings, met him evenly. Still Javert kept pacing, so evenly it became a reflex as he wrestled with the facts, with the impossibility. But there was no logic there to soothe his mind, no sudden flash of inspiration to straighten it out. Finally he dropped, limbs all over the place, back into his waiting chair and placing his head in his hands. He was out of his depth, by miles. Reality he understood, rules, order. This was none of it  
“The world is inside out... The world is upside down”  
He felt jean reach over and take hold of one of his hands, closing his own older one over it warmly “If it makes you feel better, the doctors are just as confused as you... They know of no medical situations even close to this.”  
Javert wasn't sure if that did make him feel better, or just more worried. He liked things with explanations, in straight black and white. That doctors, professionals for goodness sake, didn't know what was going on was frankly terrifying. It was to doctors you looked for medical help, for diagnosis, well they seemed to have managed that. He shook his head again slowly, confused and lost. He counted his heartbeats, forcing them to steady and retreat from his ears so he could think clearly and something close to rationally.  
“How far along are you?” Facts, not that it would really mean anything in this sitution, but he knew how to analyse them, to work out their meanings. Though there were infact two answers, the one that had made him send Jean to the doctors, the hospital it turned out, in the first place, and the official one.  
“Six weeks, they think maybe”  
He lifted his head, unaware he'd shut his eyes until he had to blink and the room was too bright “Yes, that would add up.” He felt his lips twitch then, as he thought back, and looked up meet Jean's eyes, which shone with relief.  
“you took that better than I expected  
Even as he puzzled over than, god his brain was treacle at the moment, Javert found he'd spread his hands helplessly on the table in front of him “It's not like I had much choice in the matter, is it?”  
Damn, he'd mucked up his phrasing again.  
“You could have walked out on me”  
It was said so pragmatically, almost expectantly, that he shuddered “I don't run from problems. Even if things weren't as they are between us, I would stick with you out of duty.”  
Unspoken in the air between them was one final sentence, I'm not my father. It burned his tongue, and it burned his mind. His shiftless, cowardly father, who'd got him on his mother then scurried off like it was just a game, ending up in prison for destruction of property, thefts and all sorts of other charges. And the man should have expected that such a situation would probably occur, whereas he... How on earth could he have known that this even could happen? Biologically, sea-horses excepted (the obscurities that they were), it couldn't  
Snapped fingers made him jump.“You're going around in circles, Inspector... Come back, come back where-ever you are.”  
That drew a tiny smile onto his face, though wry and tight as his jaw was still set by the nerves“I'm an open book to you, aren't I?”  
Jean tilted his head, considering “Sometimes, I've learnt to pick your signals up over the years... you were glaring fit to burn a hole in the table.” 

 

He woke abruptly the next morning to find Jean's side of the bed empty and the glimmer of the bathroom light on the ceiling. He sighed and rolled over, kicking out at furry slippers which seemed to have migrated from the other side of the bed as he put his feet out onto the carpeted floor. The bed creaked loudly as it always did and he waited for a moment. No call from the bathroom. He knew some would have gone there anyway, but not him. He reached over and touched the bare sheets instead. they were still warm, Jean hadn't been gone long. If he needed him, the other man knew he had but to shout, or make some form of noise and he would come, there was no need to live in each other's pocket. For now, it would be more useful if he carried on as normal, so Jean could slip back in... and that meant breakfast.

 

He padded downstairs and into the kitchen in loose clothes and a pair of socks, dressed, but several notches down from his work uniform. Having just got off shifts, night shifts at that, he might have felt entitled to a proper breakfast. But instead Four pieces of bread went into the toaster, two for him and two for Jean. Toast was quick, easy and, most importantly today, acceptable to a rough stomach.  
Jean entered the kitchen just as he finished buttering his two slices, . The older man sat down at the table and Javert felt the eyes immediately resting on him.  
“Yesterday, there was something I forgot...”  
He cut Jean of abruptly by turning around and placing one of the plates, the unbuttered one, in front of him, his eyes something close to affectionately stern “Eat first, talk after.”  
Valjean looked like he would disobey for a moment, then half shrugged and picked up the first piece of toast. Javert nodded and sat down opposite him, a beady eye on what his partner ate, expecting it to be less than normal. He did look slightly pale, a slight sour tinge to his features. But both pieces of toast disappeared without complaint and he breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. 

A moment of silence elapsed before he placed his hands in front of him, unconsciously imitating the posture he often used for interrogations at work “Now what were you going to say?”  
Jean dropped his head to look at his own hands hands in his lap, holding the posture for so long that Javert was on the point of reaching over and making him look up at him when he did so of his own accord.  
“I may have been over enthusiastic with my phrasing yesterday... They aren't definite that it is, what it is.”  
So Jean was nervous too? No surprises there.  
“But the symptoms combined, even under the hospital tests they did then, only pointed to that. Still They want me to go back to the hospital on Monday for more tests.”  
Javert folded his napkin neatly, controlling it as he couldn't control his mind or his feelings “I'll take you.”  
Valjean looked surprised “You've got a shift, that extra one you took for Bethany.”  
That caught him for a moment, the fact that even with his stomach doing somersaults six mornings out of seven, the other man had managed to remember little things he'd mentioned. And yes, he had put himself on the rota again, in one of his old slots.“Never mind that, I'll take you.” He stood up abruptly, piling the two plates together and taking them back to the side, talking over his shoulder “Gisquet's been on at me to take some leave anyway, I might as well surprise him” He watched as a small smile crept on his partner's face at the thought of the prefect's face when his most diligent officer actually asked for leave. Secretly, he had a feeling the prefect would already have a second lined up in case something occurred, as indeed it had or Valjean had otherwise talked him out of the shift, that was simply Gisquet's way.


	2. To the Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hospital appointment happens... with repercussions.

Monday seemed to come too quickly, for both of them, the weekend disappearing like mist. Javert tried, and thought he succeeded. to put on a relaxed, unbothered façade as he drove to the hospital but his fingers hurt as he gripped the wheel too tightly, and he knew from the wariness in Valjean's that his eyes actually carried a harshness, a coldness he normally reserved for his work. The silence in the car was thicker than a knife could cut, full of wariness, fear of hospital and the the impossible nerves. Unlike him Valjean wasn't keeping such a blank profile, his teeth worrying at his lip constantly, his fingers playing with his coat pocket top, all subtle tells of stress. Javert looked away from his sneaking and forced himself to focus, Outside, the sky was grey, but there was no sign of any rain, one thing to keep off his mind, no soaking was required today, the feelings were stormy enough.   
His fingers, loosened, shook slightly as he moved the gear stick out of driving position having parked the car and he steadied himself internally, steeling himself. Only then did he get out, giving Jean an encouraging nod, and politely ignoring, or putting down to a barely existent wind, the small shivers he could see running through the man's body. It was only his training that hid his own reaction, but he knew he hated hospitals just as much as his partner. On this exception though, he'd let Jean show it without reprimand, it was the other man who was going to be scrutinised to pieces. As they walked through the car park to the door, he dropped, almost automatically into step with Jean, noticing the slight relaxation when the man realised. Neither spoke, what could they say, but banal things, and he doubted Jean trusted his voice enough to use it anyway. When it came to a pinch he'd be fine, but otherwise, it was terrifying.

The air hit them the moment the sliding doors closed. A wave of warmth that was too warm mixed with disinfectant and that too clean smell that all hospitals had. Javert had to remind himself to breathe, his instinct was to hold his breath rather than take in this air. Fortunately, Jean paused while he consulted the letter given to him the week before and that gave him a chance to get himself back under control, again. He waited patiently, quietly reading the appointment letter over his partner's shoulder, without interfering, and refrained from pointing out which way they needed to go when Jean lifted his head and looked around for a sign with the right name on it. He wouldn't let them get deliberately lost, but he didn't need Jean cross at him for days, which though rare for the gentle fellow was not unheard of, because he felt frogmarched and coerced into this.

By the time they found the second reception desk Javert was frustrated. As far as he knew there was no legal requirement for hospitals to behave like rabbit warrens, but they did, corridors and sub corridors, sharp corners and branchings, it had nearly boggled his inner compass a time or two.  
“Stop glaring”  
He frowned instead, waiting in the background as Valjean went up to the desk, asking questions and found himself directed down a few more corridors to the waiting area, waiting room not being quite the right word, given it seemed to be more an out-sized alcove next to the corridor than a separate room. Jean sat on one of the empty chairs, But Javert found himself unwilling to settle so easily, defensive as much has dereference thudding within his heart. Eventually though he began to feel out of place, and allowed Jean to pull him down onto a neighbouring seat. Sods law it would be then that a doctor came over and led Jean away to his appointment. Javert followed, into the examination room, pointedly staring down the young student nurse who seemed inclined to usher him back out again. Then, secure in his position, he turned his attention to the doctor. The man was younger than him by ten years or more, could have been Jean's son by age if not by looks. He felt his jaw set firm, ready for confrontation that hadn't even, and might not, occur.  
“Sit please?” It was a request, with just the slightest hint of a command in there. At the same time he felt Jean tug his sleeve ever so slightly, a silent appeal for him to comply to the doctor's wishes. As gently as he could he detached him  
“I would rather stand.”  
The doctor looked slightly edgy, but turned his attention to Valjean rather than argue. Javert listened intently, feeling very off balance. He was us to medical staff talking but not about this, it was normally injuries. If for some reason police were called to children, or a birth, he normally left it to the WPCs. Now, this was a different ball game. This was his partner involved, ninety percent of his life, not that he'd ever really confess that to Jean, he had some hidden walls in his life still. The first bit was just a short recap, whether for Jean or his benefit, of what they'd done and what they found from it  
“Now, in some cases the chemicals could result from something else, which was why you were referred.”  
Javert ground his teeth, the man was being too wordy, it was driving him up the wall and, to judge by a slight pallor on his partner's face, was worrying Jean severely  
“But this one blood-test...”  
“The one the nurse suggested, Simplice.” They were the first words Jean had spoken so far and Javert glanced down at him again, then gave the doctor another wary look. The doctor wasn't, or at least didn't act phased, instead turning the folder around so they could both read the line.  
“Admittedly, there is a variation which means something else, but such levels: they are only, only seen in gravid women.”  
Javert gave the line a cursory glance, other than a very large number, the symbols looked nothing understandable.   
The doctor drew his folder back “And thus we have come to this strange conclusion, and now we must see the actuality.”   
Javert became aware of a large tray of equipment in the corner of the room, some sort of screen and other lump pieces. The doctor gestured, “If you would get on the bed, Mr Valjean and slide up your shirt. He looked at Javert “It might be better Sir, if you left the room.”  
Javert glared, seeing Jean's eyes dart back and forth between them “This man is my partner...I will stay. The discovery affects me also.”  
The doctor looked rather stunned, but after a moment he stepped back and turned to the equipment. Finally as he set it up Javert realised what it was, and felt briefly ridiculous into the bargain, an ultrasound machine. He crossed the room to where Jean had swung himself up onto the flat examination bed.  
Jean didn't flinch, to his credit, as the probe slid over his belly, stretching his neck to keep an eye on it, while the doctor kept intent eyes on the screen. Javert felt rather like a spare part, standing on the far side of Jean and trying not to twitch, or appear too intimidating. Quite abruptly, after a few fiddles with the equipment, the doctor's eyebrows shot up and he looked closer  
“Quite extraordinary”  
“What?”  
Javert quickly grabbed Jean's shoulder to hold him still, the other man rolled up onto his side to look “Lie still.”  
The doctor looked downright bemused, that was all Javert could describe it as. After a long moment he pushed the screen so they could see it. Greeny marks on black was all Javert could make of it at first, then his eyes picked up a pattern of flashes in the centre. Four distinct flashes, one after the other, as regular as clockwork. Jean seemed spellbound, oblivious that he would probably get a crick if he held his neck like that for too long.  
“A heartbeat.”  
“Quite...” The doctor became abruptly business like “Now Mr Valjean, as fascinating as this is, I must tell you it poses a serious heath risk. The pregnancy is ectopic, that is outside the uterus. Even amongst women it would be risky to continue, but for you... I would suggest that it is safer for it to be ended.”  
The spell shattered. Jean sat up abruptly and even though he was on the wrong side to see his face, Javert could tell his partner was both hurt and angry “You don't mean that.”  
The doctor remained impassive “It is quite incredible that this is even happening, but it is a medical liability.”  
“It's a child!”  
Javert gripped his partner's shoulder, feeling Jean's shudders ripple up his arm “Jean, calm down.” He glanced at the doctor who blinked and carried on, seeming unaware of the chaos he was wreaking with every word “If however, you decide to maintain this, unusual state of affairs, then I must suggest that you stay in hospital, for the remainder of the time.”  
Now the shudders had changed to fear from anger, and Javert found his tongue “Why?”  
“The shear risk, it will be easier to manage any problems should they arise if he is here rather than at home.”  
“You've already admitted you're out of your depth with this, that it shouldn't be biologically possible, so why, when you're as blind to this as any, would it be better for Jean to remain here?”   
The doctor finally seemed stunned by his outburst and Javert turned his anger to the room window, where, surprise surprise, a group of medical students seemed to have gathered. He stared, and they melted away as if they'd never been there.  
“It is medically safer”  
He turned his eyes back to the doctor “Medically, yes, but what about emotionally, comfort-wise, socially, all the other aspects that matter to a life?”  
“Sir, I don't mean to interrupt, but he has a point” All eyes swivelled to see the student standing just inside the door, holding a piece of paper which he was looking at intently “Studies do show that it can increase stress, compared to staying at home and...”  
“Who's side are you on?” The doctor snapped, cutting in as only one with superior rank would. Javert promised himself he'd never use that technique on new recruits again,  
“I am an impartial observer Doctor, and furthermore, this pregnancy is not strictly ectopic, pseudo- uterine might be a better description of it.” The student stepped forward, proffering what looked like prints from the scan. The doctor stared at him and he suddenly checked, backing away rapidly back to the doorway.  
“This condition, you must understand Mr Valjean that there are so many unknowns, so many possible problems and crises, it really would be better if you were admitted immediately.” Javert watched his partner, seeing Valjean's eyes starting to dart about as they did when he was being fired with too much information, too many decisions, all at once. If he'd been a horse, he would have been showing the whites of his eyes  
“I- I can't make that kind of decision on the spot... I can't, I can't”  
“You may have to, for your health and, that of your... child”  
Jean gulped, and Javert made up his mind “No, you don't Jean.” he let his hand slip down to rest on the flat of the other man's shoulder “We're going home.”  
Silence, Jean leant slightly resting against him, whether in supplication or comfort he couldn't quite tell.  
The doctor stared at him as if he'd gone mad, and perhaps he had   
“I hope you understand, Sir that this is going to be against medical advice, that any death which may result will be on your conscience, not mine...” He hesitated then “I presume you are not gynaecological trained.”  
He met the doctor's eyes with a cold look “From what you've said, I doubt it would matter if I was.” He gave Jean a small shove and his partner obediently slipped off the bed. He walked round it to join him, still holding the doctor's gaze “But you have my word as a police officer that should the slightest thing appear amiss, we will come back at once.”  
They walked out side by side, pausing only to sign the forms at the desk. Javert remembered it only because his mind was trained never to shut down, Jean, he'd slipped into a daze at the end of the discussion, required Javert's firm, possessive arm around his waist to guide him out of the hospital and to where the car had been parked. Mechanically, he unlocked the doors, waiting until his partner was sat before going to the drivers side. He slipped his seat belt on, turned the engine on, and carefully backed the car out.  
When they got home, he parked the car, then just sat there, eyes facing forward but seeing nothing.  
“Thank you”  
He glanced sideways slightly and saw Jean looking as blind as he had just previously “Just don't die on me now. I've staked a reputation on this, as well as my heart.”  
A weak smile “I'll try not to.”

Lunch passed in the same rough silence, Javert found himself waiting to be asked for justification of his actions. Instead Jean seemed to avoid the subject Instead the other man suggested, in an attempt to distract him that he realised later, that he take a paperwork afternoon shift at the station.   
He found himself sat at his desk, filling in the forms mechanically all the while trying to comprehend his actions, and instead only realising how much of a risk he'd taken and how much danger he'd put Jean in by acting as he had. Most of what he'd said had been fuelled by bravado, even his promise was empty. If something went wrong, and he was away from home, even if he was there, chances are an ambulance would come too late. He'd been given medical training when he joined the force, he knew the speed of internal bleeding. Yet he'd taken Jean out of the hospital, away from medical care, which even if it worked in the dark, could be enough. It would be, as the doctor said, on his shoulders if Jean died, his guilt to bear alongside the grief.  
“Inspector?”  
He lifted his head to see one of the small band of WPC's, and the only one he really liked, really got, standing in his doorway “Yes? What is it Jennifer?”  
“Nothing, but you looked like you were far away, and hurting” She came towards him closing the door behind her “Was it bad news this morning?”  
If he hadn't known Jean, if it was anyone other than Jennifer asking this, he would have retreated behind closed walls, shut them out with a glare. Instead, her gestured for her to sit down and leant forwards, interlinking his fingers on the desk  
“Let me put a proposition to you, hypothetically”  
She nodded, serious.   
“You're faced with something completely unheard of, something that should be impossible. When you consult the experts, even they are in the dark, and they admit it. They insist that they are allowed to keep the something, under their eyes, under their supervision, that it will prevent a loss of life. Yet equally you know that the,” He paused, giving himself a moment to construct some form of acceptable alias for his problem “Lets call it A. You know that A doesn't like where the experts work, that it's reaction could also cause trouble, and they've admitted that their as clueless as you. Also, it seems at the time as if it severs any support between A and you, or at least restricts it for a time. What would you do then?”  
He knew at once that she'd seen at least part way through his fabrication, understood what he was asking.  
“Is it wrong to take them from the expert's care?” She shook her head slightly “How should I know? We work within rules here, any changes depend on the situation, the entire situation... But, if it helps, you rarely maker decisions without assessing all aspects Inspector, that's something every one of us out there knows. It's what makes you so good.” The clock chimed and he watched, slightly stupidly as she stood up and left, uncertain whether or not that had helped the situation, or complicated it.

 

Dinner was as silent as the lunch that came before it, neither meeting the others eyes, despite the fact the kitchen table was only a four-man round.  
“I will not blame you if you wish to rescind my decision and admit yourself to the hospital.” It took a lot to say it, to admit he had made a mistake that had ramifications of the most dangerous kind  
He felt the start in Valjean's gaze, the confusion, even though he didn't see it “Why would I do that?”  
“I have put you at risk, by acting without thinking... I apologise.”  
“Second thoughts?”  
There was too much implication, too many double meanings, in that phrase for him to let it slip past unchallenged “Never!”  
“I was scared there, Javert, scared and pinned in a corner...We both know if I went back, they would either try to convince me to be sensible, or I would become something of a case study. I'm sure they'd be kind, of course... But still.” Valjean's voice was quavering at the mere thought the mere discussion and Javert felt his chest loosen, ironically   
“I''d still blame myself were anything to happen”   
“You would either way, for taking me out or not doing so...Javert look at me.”  
There was a steel of command behind the last that he could not ignore, and he lifted his gaze from his plate.  
How could Jean still be so gentle, when he knew his life was on the line through this, but there was nothing but kindness “It will be as God wills, Javert. Otherwise, how else would this have occurred.”  
He nodded, slowly, How else indeed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated.


	3. Trials and tribulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which rougher aspects come to the surface, and an argument occurs

Javert glanced up at the clock. He was pushing it tight in leaving for his for his shift, but he wanted to see Jean come downstairs before he left. It meant the day was starting normally and he wouldn't fret, well he conceded he'd still fret, but not quite as much. If Jean wasn't downstairs, he'd worry, worry how bad today was going to be. He glanced at the clock, taking another gulp out of the mug of coffee he held in one hand. He'd give it another minute, then he'd go up and check on the other man. It had been two weeks from the hospital confrontation, two more scans gone by, and he still doubted. His shift pattern could be unpredictable, it meant he wasn't around all the time. If something happened and he was out on a call... it didn't bear thinking about. On the tail of that thought, he heard Jean's step upstairs. Still he waited, watching the stairs as he swallowed a few more quick mouthfuls of the coffee. The clock ticked closer to his hours but he waited still, then finally, Jean padded down the stairs. His face looked normal, then just as abruptly, it went pale and he started swallowing repeatedly, as if his stomach was churning again. Javert frowned, watching as the colour drained out, leaving only a waxing grey there.  
As subtly as possible, he turned away and threw the rest of the cup down the sink plug. At least, he thought as he snatched up his coat, he had an excuse for doing it, that he was running late. He crossed the kitchen, pressed a kiss to his partner's forehead. Already Jean's colour was returning slightly, almost from the moment the mug full had gone down the sink, he was to realise later.  
“I'll see you later” Some part of him wanted to stay, but Jean seemed to forestall him  
“You're already late...shoo”  
He shoooed.

It was his colleagues who noticed the change in habits first, teasing him lightly about having lost his flask, his coffee maker, which he assumed the oblivious idiot meant Jean, being broken, and coming down to join the other ranks ranks. He ignored them, concentrating on not upsetting the plasticy paper cup cup over his papers and drinking it before it became stone cold coffee, not that it was really close to coffee anyway. But still he heard the titters, the sniggers from some of them beyond the office door. It frayed his temper, already stretched to limits, worrying at it like a terrier worried a rat. Why did it matter what he drank, he was a good officer and that was what should have counted. Why did their titters matter to him anyway, they never had before, he'd been aloof above them. He needed Jean to keep him humble, he knew some of them said. And there was the crux of the matter, Jean. Jean, who was everything to him, given half a chance and who he, by conceding, by taking advantage, had put at risk.

He took a gulp of the sour coffee, swallowing the rest quickly as its coolness became apparent in his mouth. The paperwork in front of him looked unappealing as ever, but he forced himself to focus in on it, what the recruits were never told was that a good half of the catching work came form paper trails rather than chases. Brains not stamina were often a pre-requisite of an officer, though he could run with the best, certainly in his younger years and even now as his hair went a mercifully dignified silver, he could keep up well. He snarled at himself, forcing his mind back to the paperwork, well aware of where his mind had planned to wander next, back to Jean... and back to their child. For that he could endure teasing of any kind, and even the appealing coffee. For Jean, anything. Anything except, as he noticed curious eyes peeking through the gaps in the blinds of his office, anything except the teasing. Teasing was bullying, and he'd not accept that, it was against the rules. At least that was the justification he concocted to soothe himself, for all he knew Gisquet was with the teasers, and it wouldn't stand in front of his commanding officer anyway, he could hear the way the conversation would go in his head  
 _Teased for coffee.... honestly Javert, you're getting too sensitive... and you always seemed to have a tough skin._  
Gisquet, though meaning no harm, would be laughing as he said it, and from an outsiders perspective it might indeed seem ridiculous. But then the entire situation was ridiculous, and he was stuck right in the middle of all the ridiculousness. He neatly tossed the empty cup into the office bin, setting his teeth. If he rose to the bait they would only tease harder and harder, just to get a reaction. He would not let it get to him, he'd been through this before, several times in his life, and he'd come out of it alive so there was no reason to break the streak now. Though he had hoped it would stop when he reached a position of authority, but apparently not. Still, at least his work wasn't teasing him, and for once that made an appealing prospect  
What was the world coming too?

 

Late night to mid-morning shifts were absolutely no fun. They'd never been fun, even when he was a young workaholic, eager to make a good impression. All nighters, all day, evening to night, he could cope with all of those, but starting at four and clocking off at nine was just awkward. And now it was even more so, as much as he wouldn't admit it, he fretted. But he was home now, car neatly on the drive and front door opening easily to his set of keys, to slam behind him with the large bang that they generally detested.  
No call of welcome  
“Jean?”  
Lights were on, so the other man was certainly at home. He tilted his head, listening. Their home wasn't big, and had its fair share of creaking floorboards, which he frequently swore at when he was dressing for a night shift and trying not to rouse Jean from sleep. There was a joke you could hear the air move and know exactly who was breathing where. Now though, he didn't hear anything, not even a whisper of a whisper.  
“Jean?” He raised his voice, not quite to shout level, but enough that it would carry through the house. A noise, one he couldn't quite identify, came from upstairs. He climbed them quickly and quietly, two at a time until he reached the landing. Their bedroom door was open. He entered, walking down the room to rest his hand on the bathroom door, almost pushing it open. A tiny bit more pressure and it would swing on its hinges.  
“Jean?”  
The sound that came was a distinctly sorry groan. Javert pushed the door open, Jean was hunched over the sink, his hair slipping forwards. It was obvious he was ill. He found himself at his partner's side before he'd even realised he was moving, slipping a hand over the man's shoulders, easing him up. Jean's face was ashy pale, but his eyes were still bright.  
“I thought I told you to call if something like this happened” he couldn't help the accusing tone of voice that slipped from his mouth  
“I'm fine”  
Javert stared at him, incredulous “You are _not_ fine, Jean. You've clearly been ill all morning, alone. If something had happened...”  
“It wasn't all the morning, it's been fits and starts, fine for a while, then back here.” Jean gave a rueful jerk of his shoulders, shrugging off the hand that Javert had kept resting on his shoulder “I _can_ look after myself Javert, I've managed for years on end.”  
The mimicry of tone and stress did not go unnoticed, he was after all a police officer, but he let it slide, too concerned for his partner.  
“You promised you would tell me I anything strange happened, immediately. I promised the doctor, a doctor I fully despise if I tell you the truth, that he would be informed in such a situation. I can't keep my word if you don't help me.” He turned on the spot as he spoke, keeping his eyes on Jean as the man walked back to the bedroom.  
“It's not anything strange, Javert it's morning sickness, and it gets worse in the third month, that's all there is too it.” Jean spoke, but he didn't turn his head as he did so, keeping his eyes fixed on the opposite wall.  
Javert shook his head in exasperation “I know that.”  
“Then why do you fuss so? You don't need to be scrambling about with every bout of upset stomach I suffer for this while, you run yourself ragged with your shifts as it is. I'll be fine. I don't need hovering over, save that for the child.”  
The child who's existence he was still struggling to get his mind around “I fuss and hover because I care Jean, I know you can look after yourself...  
“Then why don't you let me!” That was when he realised how far he had pushed the other man, he hadn't heard Jean's voice carry a whip-crack like that for years  
“Because I care, dammit! Because I don't want to see you hurt. Because I have nightmares of coming home and finding you taken ill, dying … and today, it seemed like the dream had come true.”  
 _Because if that happens I won't forgive myself_  
Because if you die, I will be back on that bridge and there won't be anyone to stop me jumping.  
Because you mean everything to me Jean.  
But he couldn't say those reasons, it made it too centered on him, on needing Jean, it would make the other man feeling guilty. That wasn't right, he'd seen emotional manipulation used on victims, and he wasn't going to lose his morals, even if he had lost his temper.  
He looked to Jean's back, which was inscrutable. With a silent sigh, his shoulders sagging, he bowed his head and crept from the room quietly.

The bedroom was pitch-black in the night, the house quiet around it. Javert lay on his side, in the darkness, on one side of the double bed. Slowly, his hand reached over to rest lightly on Jean's ribs, feeling the rise and fall of his breath.  
“I'm sorry.”  
Jean rolled over to face him, and Javert almost jumped as he realised his love was still awake. Then he found himself drawn into a hug  
“Why do you apologise for caring Javert? You should never apologise for that...”  
“I shouldn't have shouted at you.” He pressed his forehead to the other man's head  
“Because you were frightened... because you care. You reacted from your heart, not your head. No-one should criticise you for that. You love... and that means everything.”  
Javert pulled him tight, tucking his head over the white hair and hoping Jean wouldn't feel the sobs that shook his chest and pooled his eyes. What had he done to deserve this man in his life? This man whose forgiveness never seemed to run dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcomed
> 
> Eta: Italics seem to be playing up, the three becauses directly after Javert's spiel are all extra thoughts.


	4. Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really tiny chapter that wrote itself onto the end of the last one after a discussion with a commenter, putting it up

“You can stop creeping about Javert, I'm not going to snap at you.”  
“I deserve it.”  
“We both deserve it, so stop being a martyr, I got enough of that when I was the mayor.” He wasn't sure which expression filled more of Javert's face, shock or annoyance. The inspector's head had shot up like that of a startled horse. He gestured for his partner to sit, and was surprised when he did “Yesterday, it was inevitable it would happen at some point.”  
“Inevitable or not I shouldn't have behaved like that, I should have thought.”  
Jean reached out a hand, placing it on Javert's shoulder “You did think, somewhat, and with this” He slid his hand to rest over his partner's heart “Not with your brain.”  
“And I should have used my brain...” The acceptance of his own mistake was heavy in Javert's voice. Jean sighed, tutting softly at the stubbornness   
“Perhaps, but I was also at fault. I was ill and touchy, you were frightened... quite reasonably so in my opinion. The two were bound to collide at some point. As I said, inevitable.”  
“I still should have considered that, I thought too much of myself, my own word given to the doctor, not your feelings.”  
“Stop it, stop it right now Javert” His hand, almost of it's own accord, slid back to clench on the inspector’s shoulder, digging in to hopefully cause just enough pain to snap Javert out of his misery. It wasn't fair, but the only other would be a sharp slap over one ear, and that might just lead to more anger. “I told you last night, and I tell you again, you thought with your heart, with your love. I don't think for one moment you actually considered the doctor, only losing me...” He took a deep breath, hoping the wobble of his breath would not be noticed “I'd be exactly the same.”  
Javert turned his head, resting it on Jean's chest “You have been, frequently.”  
Jean slid his arm around Javert's shoulders, holding him, and breathed a sigh of relief as a flash of the old sharpness began to return.  
Eventually Javert pulled away, looking at him “I really don't deserve you, Jean.”  
He smiled back, thinking back to when the bishop had redeemed him with the silver, how uncomprehending and unworthy he had felt. Javert was in the same place now. “One day, my love, you will realise that you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think this is about the only chapter so far that's from Jean's perspective,


	5. Beiniveu Doctor

Jean's smile as he stumbled into the kitchen, annoyed at the world, and at stupid drivers particularly, was enough to shift his dark mood slightly. Jean was often relieved after a hospital appointment, but rarely pleased. The doctor was still being too much of a git for him to be pleased. He lifted a brow as he crossed the room, intending to make a large mug of milky coffee as compensation for his shift. It was alright now, it had been a week of waking at normal time to find Jean still curled next to him, sound asleep in the rest of the undisturbed, a week of normality.  
“New doctor... one who happens to agree with you.”  
He carefully set the jar of coffee on the kitchen side and unscrewed the top, placing it next to the jar “Oh, in what way?” He decided not to add any flippant comment that time, his curiosity ticking him to diplomatic silence. Jean clearly thought favourably of this new doctor, which was a step in the right direction, and earned the man a mild commendation unseen from himself.  
“He thinks I'm better off at home, even if you drive me to distraction sometimes, at least it's distraction I'm adapted too... As much as an old one like me adapts to anything.”  
Javert turned his head allowing his surprise to show to his partner. He'd been acting on instinct, on reaction when he'd flung the accusation at the previous doctor. Desperate to give Jean another route out of his panic, not solely the doctors trap. To find that it actually held some medical weight was pleasing, and frankly vindicating too. He made his coffee on autopilot and carried it to the microwave before dropping neatly into a kitchen chair  
“You're the most adaptable man I know Jean, now carry on about this doctor.”  
“There's not much more for me to tell you, he did all the usual things they do regarding me.”  
“Well what was he like?”  
Jean shook his head, carefully avoiding the interrogation technique Javert had tried to pull “I'm not being a tell tale, you'll meet him yourself in a few days.”  
He felt his eyebrows lift of their own violation “Will I now?”  
Jean nodded “He noticed this” the older man tapped the silver band that circled his left ring finger, “that I had you and not my adoptive daughter as first contact and added it up, presumably... and to finish he asked very politely who you were to me, not seeming judgmental at all.”  
Well that was welcome news, he'd gotten far to used to snide comments or downright terrified looks when it came out, never him admitting openly mind you, that the one he shared his life with was another man. The microwave bleeped a loud announcement, but it didn't register. Even their private life mocked it, society’s strictures that he couldn't break. The ring, rings, and his hand automatically covered his own, were silver, when they should have been gold, the same as Bethany wore every day. But it wasn't legal for a commitment of that type to exist between them, no matter what he knew Jean longed for, man of the church that he was. It was in every fabric of life, that judgment. Except perhaps now. Doctors weren't supposed to be judgemental on that, no professional was, but it happened, you had to be a dreamer to believe it didn't. This doctor, whoever he was went up a notch, another precious, hard earned notch in his estimation.  
“What's his name?”  
“Myriel, Dr Myriel”

The hospital seemed as domineering as ever. Javert could feel every nerve in his body strain to high alert, that it wanted to be out of here, even if the alternative was a huge pile of paperwork. Jean touched his arm, hand covering white knuckles. He looked down, meeting calm, no not calm, sparklingly happy eyes. He had no reason to be frightened for Jean's sake, unless by his own foolishness he managed to over intimidate the doctor into refusing to see them again. And that was a risk, a great risk. His intimidating power was normally, as had been proved before here, a significant asset, but he had been informed that he had difficulty switching it off occasionally. As far as he was concerned the only ones who would be feeling intimidated were those who ought to be feeling intimidated. And there wasn't much he could do about that, but for Jean's sake, he would do his best to appear non-threatening.  
This time they were not kept waiting for any length of time, and so Javert found himself doubly startled when a rather small man appeared out of one of the side rooms, a broad smile on his face  
“Mr Valjean”  
At his side Jean stood up. Javert watched uncertainly. This was Myriel? This man who could have been a grandfather to any child? Not what he'd expected, but he wasn't sure what he'd expected.  
The doctor had shaken Jean's hand while he'd been musing and now Javert found the attention turned to him.  
“Inspector.”  
He took the offered hand, shaking it with all formality. The doctor, Myriel, had a steady handshake, that somehow managed to be gentle too. Slowly his nerves began to unstrain, if not relax. 

Myriel's consulting room was small, by any standards. A desk in the corner with a now ubiquitous computer, carpet, three chairs, a shelf up at head height above the desk and mercifully a window. But while some felt like a box or a cage Javert quickly realised that this particular formal setting had a softer air too it. Still, he sat stiffly in his chosen seat, keeping his senses alert and his eyes firmly on Myriel. To his surprise the doctor made no efforts to pick up any of the files laying on his desk, but firmly turned his chair to face the pair of them and sat down.  
“First of all, there is nothing to worry about.” Javert wanted to scoff at that, but kept himself on good behaviour, at least for a little while longer. “I asked for this meeting as I have been handed your care, Jean, for the foreseeable future. It did not seem sensible for that changeover to happen without some sort of introduction between all of us.”  
Myreil paused, apparently waiting for either of them to say something should they wish to. When neither did, he continued, apparently unperturbed.  
“Secondly, you have my apologies, both of you... for previous treatment.” From anyone else that might have been an official platitude, but the depth of feeling, of pain in the brown eyes convinced him otherwise. This man really cared what happened to Jean, cared about his health in all ways, not about the idea of heading a medical novelty. He cared enough to make himself known to a protective partner, Javert was under no illusions as to the reputation his name had probably had cultivated in the halls of this place.  
“With regards to last time what are your thoughts?” Jean had already told him, but he wanted to hear it for himself.  
Myriel did not seem in any way surprised by his blunt, forcing question, and answered it straight, making no allusions to a previous conversation with Jean. “That the suggestion, while possibly well meant, was badly timed and badly placed, though I should not speak so of a colleague. Jean” Myreil suddenly paused and gave Jean a brief tilt of the head “My pardon. Jean is far better off at home, familiar, safe comfortable. Should something go wrong, then yes, you'd be better here, but so would anyone. That is that.” Myriel sat back, but gently, no sense of superiority or control in the gesture  
Javert nodded, that was good common sense, the kind he wished he'd heard to start with.  
“I can promise you this, as far as I am powerful, there will be no more changes.”  
“Has Simplice stayed?”  
Myriel nodded “I would not remove her, even if she asked.”  
Javert felt Jean relax. The nurse had been a catalyst in all of this, and he'd never met her, but Jean clearly liked her.  
“I will not willingly attempt to scare you, and I will answer questions, however simple you think them.”  
Javert found himself nodding understanding, though he knew the question was directed at Jean. He liked this doctor, he was honest almost to a fault. He'd be gentle, he wouldn't allow Jean, or either of them, a small voice added, to be frightened. That was what was needed. But one thing nagged.  
“How do we know you'll still be here by the end?”  
“Javert!”  
He felt the slap on his arm and felt the glare from his partner's eyes. He kept his eyes on the doctor, he wanted an answer. This doctor was old, quite possibly close to the last retirement age. Myriel however, raised a hand to ward off Jean's spluttering outrage. He didn't seem offended, or even surprised.  
“It is a fair question, and yes, I am over the general retirement age. But I started late, and we can go on for a decade more if we pass tests.”  
Javert gave a curt nod, conveying apologies with a glance after meeting Jean's eyes for a second. 

Shock coursed through his body at the blunt, frankly rude question which had come from Javert's mouth. That little display of power had been exactly what he'd been begging Javert not to do, anyone else would have been offended. Myriel had waved it off, answered calmly, but the offense still stung, especially when things had seemed to be going well. When he'd first met Myriel, four days before, he'd found himself out of his depth at the sudden change of consultant, bracing for the inevitable repetitive questions which came from such a changeover. The questions hadn't come, he'd found a doctor who had read the medical file, continuing on as if they had known each other for the weeks he'd been under the hospital care. Myriel was kind, easy to talk to, human. He didn't just see the medical situation, he saw the person involved in it. Such a little thing, but it mattered so greatly. They already, with only one meeting, seemed to understand each other. And now Javert had jeopardised that, right to the knife edge. Words spoken earlier in comfort mocked him now; _While possibly well meant, was badly timed and badly placed_ , how prophetic.  
Whatever passed after that he missed in a confused and pained daze, finding himself guided mechanically to his feet by Javert, and throwing a final look over his shoulder to try and asses the damage done.  
Myriel smiled gently, clear forgiveness in his eyes. Jean caught his breath in relief. Nodding in answer Myriel tilted his head to Jean's stomach then in Javert's direction, raising his brows. The question was clear, _has he actually realised yet?_  
It made his lips twitch as he shook his head _No._  
As the door shut behind them, he could have sworn he heard chuckling, very soft and kind, but chuckling still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the first time I've mixed adaptations, but Colm was such a good bishop


	6. Musings and worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure about this at all, but it folded into a chapter of sorts and tumbled onto the page.

It had been barely anything to start with, something similar to a spider scampering inside his stomach. There would be the tinniest fluttering, gone almost before it was there. For weeks he'd thought it was his stomach rumbling slightly, or complaining. Then gradually gradually it had become more defined, and he'd realised what exactly it was. Not digestion complaining, but the child moving. His child. In some ways it was almost comical, because, even before the little one was supposed to be able to hear, it would stop wriggling and fluttering about if Javert stormed inside in a sour mood. One moment fluttering, the next still. Javert never seemed to notice the fact he was on the edge of laughing aloud, surprisingly for the officer who could apparently make the tiniest facts be the case-solvers everyone else had missed, who would happily run himself ragged on a case, going without sleep for days on end if it was required or if Gisquet was too wrapped up to remember to shoo him home. But he never backed down from anything, if you had earned his loyalty, you had it to the end. He was one, this had proved that as nothing else had, Jennifer another, the law; excluding lawyers, a third. Jennifer, who had kept Javert vaguely sane for a few months by bringing a flask of coffee with her to work, once office gossip had reached her ears. He still hadn't managed to thank the lady for that, even if it had been partly self-motivated, Javert in a situation like the office without coffee would not have been fun for anyone nearby. 

He let one hand settle to rest on the small bump which had quietly appeared shortly before they both saw Myriel. The child, their child fluttered, almost in response. Or was that his wistful dreaming, creating a bond when it was too early for one to exist, jumping ahead of himself in pure happiness. Was it too early for a bond to exist, did that ever happen?  
Silly questions, silly slippery questions to which there was no answer, but he silently thanked God for this chance at his dream when it might have been declared he'd failed with his sister's children, or had his chance with Cosette. Cosette, the Lark who'd been his sunrise, if the bishop had been his daybreak. He wondered what that made the child growing inside of him, his child, their child. And Javert, who he'd hated had given him this chance without a single jest or mock, stood by him even in this strange situation they found themselves in, when he could tell by one subtle glance that his partner was out of his depth, all on edge. Javert, bless him, who did his best to hide that from him, afraid it would be read the wrong way.

-

The child was healthy, and growing. Then why was he crying? Myriel made no fuss about it, willing to sit quite still, unobtrusive, until he found himself back under control, eyes bright but dry. Why today, when he'd been steady over it for so long. Perhaps at the back of his mind he'd been waiting, reading too much, knowing this check could mean so much. Had something been found it wouldn't have mattered a jot, he loved the child whatever, but somehow the terrifying words of that first doctor stuck with him, every week he feared finding no heartbeat, finding that something had gone wrong. This was not, as Javert had pointed out right at the start, biologically meant to happen, there was so much unexplained, so much that could possibly go wrong. So he worried within himself, praying silently that the blessing wouldn't be taken.

Javert was home when he got back, the car was on the drive, a light on behind the front door. The door which opened to neatly tumble him into his partners arms  
“I should have come with you, idiot that I am...”Javert held him briefly, only briefly, but it mattered and meant so much.  
“It's fine, all fine.” He felt Javert nod above him then found himself being divested of his coat, neatly and precisely, so it was gone before he noticed. He didn't pull away as the inspector left an arm around him as they walked to the kitchen. Only then did Javert move away, sitting quietly at the kitchen table, letting him do as he would, not hovering. But he was watching. Javert always watched.

-

He watched, he couldn't help himself. He didn't want Jean hurt even, or was it especially, within their own home. He saw Jean turn in the corner, rather quickly. That had him half on his feet, but then Jean stumbled sharply, as if he couldn't find his balance,reaching out for support jerkily. Javert blocked his next stumble with his body, grabbing his shoulders and steadying him “Jean?”  
The older man had his eyes tightly closed, leaning against him gratefully, face pale “Spinning, everything's spinning.”  
Javert took a deep breath, steadying himself, keeping his grip on Jean. Carefully, allowing Jean to rest on him, he led him to the table “Sit down, put your head on your knees.”  
The sit seemed more of a sudden buckle at the knees, but at least Jean wasn't now in imminent danger of hitting the floor. Still he kept a hand on his partner's shoulder, rubbing it back and forth gently.  
“Why couldn't this have happened yesterday, or even this morning, not after you come back from the doctors.”  
“I agree” Jean still sounded wobbly, but not quite as bad as he had. Javert let out his breath slowly, quietly, moving his hand forward to gently stroke Jean's tumbling hair. He didn't want his partner hurt, didn't like seeing him vulnerable. Jean simply wasn't vulnerable, he was the one who put things back together. He swallowed his sigh, it would just be read as annoyance, but it tugged at his chest, bubbling inside. He didn't like this, all this change, these massive shifts, almost from one day to the next. He was always slightly outside of what was going on, spun and thrown by some sort of centrifugal force, left reeling about.  
Eventually Jean sat up, slowly and carefully and Javert felt and errant hand cover his own. “I'm alright now, I think.”  
He allowed a small smile, expected, to come to his face “I'm glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments more than welcome. Really not sure.


	7. Several tons of Bricks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from a discussion with theoretically chaotic

“Javert...” Someone was calling his name, but he was reluctant to rise from sleep. He'd come off his shift, the bed was warm   
“Javert”  
Jean was beside him  
“Javert wake up”  
Jean... He was awake in seconds “What is it?” he could feel alarm in his veins.  
Jean took his hand, firmly, placing it on his stomach and holding it there. Javert tried to pull away, uncomfortable suddenly, but Jean's grip was too firm, and to use more force would just cause offence.   
Something. Squirming. Wriggling. _.Moving._  
He swallowed sharply, then glanced at Jean. Jean, with a great beaming smile and shining eyes. Eyes that begged him to share the wonder of this moment. Drawing on all his reserves he managed to smile, lean over and give his partner a kiss on the forehead. Clearly that was enough, for Jean let him go and settled onto his side, clearly intending to go back to sleep. Javert watched through lidded eyes as his partner's breathing deepened and steadied out, then he opened his eyes properly. Movement, life... the child.   
Child.   
Baby.  
He groaned through his teeth, rubbing his forehead wearily. His mind was whirl, he couldn't tell what thoughts his brain threw at him, only that they were coming far to fast and were far too strange. What did he know about children, about babies to be more precise, and he was always precise. Less than would go on the back of a proverbial postage stamp. There couldn't be anyone less qualified to raise a baby than him. 

Javert nearly sprang out of his chair at the lunch table as a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Shaking he jerked his head around to face who-ever it was. He found gisquet, with a stern, no-nonsense face on him.  
“Come with me.” The tone of obedience brooked no argument. He followed, found himself being marched into a back office and the door shut behind him.   
“Sit.”  
He sat in the nearest chair, on the side of the desk that someone being challenged would sit. Gisquet clicked the lock then walked to the other side of the desk and sat down to face him “Now, what is wrong?”  
“Wrong Sir?” It wasn't intentional misleading but his braid wasn't working  
“You look like you've been hit over the head with a sledgehammer... What's caused that? Is Jean sick?”  
That he could answer truthfully “No Sir.”  
“Then what is it?” There was slightly more whip-crack in that question, more demand.  
He sighed “It's a long story.”  
“I have all lunch break.”  
There was no getting out of this. He took a deep breath “Six months ago, Jean persuaded me, us, to adopt a baby one of his distant cousins would be having. We got a message yesterday that it was wriggling about a lot, very healthy.” He'd been staring at his lap as he spoke, then looked up to Gisquet.   
The commander was smiling gently, not looking the least surprised, nodding gently “I was just the same... It's a moment of realisation that cannot be bettered.”  
“I never expected it... never.” He was shaking his head frantically now, and he knew his eyes were desperate. “I'm not parental, never mind paternal.”   
To his surprise, Gisquet actually chuckled “You could have fooled me.”  
He stared at him, uncomprehending.  
“When John was shot, you stayed by his side all that time, comforting him. When Ben fell off that wall and broke his ankle, you would have killed anyone who tried to get near him. And Alexis..”  
Javert flinched, the first WPC he'd been assigned to mentor up to ranks, she'd made inspector before she was knifed on beat in one of the lower parts of the city.   
Gisquet seemed to have waited until he looked up before continuing. “I know it was Beth who suggested it, but you were the first to put money in.” He paused, and Javert watched as he nodded to himself. “I'd say you're pretty caring.”  
"Caring for an officer is one thing, a child or baby quite another”  
Gisquet seemed to loose the fight “To my mind it isn't, what is different to shushing Alex and calming a child who's scraped his or her knee?”  
Javert had to admit he couldn't fault the logic in that, but there was a difference in his mind. One was a grown, rational man, the other a child who acted on emotion, inexplicable, incomprehensible. A child who wouldn't speak until it was a year old, wouldn't make sense for time after that.  
“You're pushing it a bit tight to look for paternity leave, but I'll see what strings I can wiggle, you've been distracted recently. And you've done more than enough overtime in your stints to have earned it as extra.”  
The words blurred through Javert, making no sense to his mind. All he knew was that for all that he measured over six foot in height barefoot, he was in way over his head.  
“Javert.” Gisquet's voice snapped him out of his muddle “How's Jean taking this?”  
He sighed, feeling inadequate again “He's glowing, glowing and beaming. He'd always wanted to raise his own.”  
Gisquet's eyes challenged him harshly “Are you sure? I remember I thought that about my wife, but she was just as terrified as I was, more so since she had to face the birth.” A wry smile appeared “Tell Jean he's lucky to be avoiding that.”  
Javert managed to keep his expression neutral, but just barely. _Oh, If only you knew._.

The shift mates who had been enduring his temper for the previous months wouldn't have believed their eyes had they seen him now. But then, he probably wouldn't be like this if they were here. This being standing in the lounge doorway watching his partner sleep curled on the three-seater. It wasn't a surprise, Jean had been wriggling about for most of the night, unable to settle, so it was a logical that he'd be asleep at some point during the day. Javert knew there was a tiny smile curling his face, just a gentle one, though he couldn't identify where it came from. On silent feet he walked to Jean's side, straightening the blanket Jean had over him with tiny movements, determined to not disturb him. Still Jean shifted, clearly coming close to waking “Javert?”  
He brushed a hand over the other man's forehead “Sleep Jean.. sleep.”  
Jean settled after a moment more, his face relaxing back into slumber. Javert dropped a kiss on his forehead and inched out again, stopping for one last look back. If he could have watched all day, he realised he would have done so. But that was not productive, and to be unproductive was not in his nature  
You're keeping guard over him, persuaded one small part of his brain  
He doesn't need it  
Doesn't he?When he was asleep last night he was curled up close to you.  
Javert slammed down the mug he was holding with a little more force than required, sighing with relief when it didn't crack and glancing over his shoulder out to the hall, hoping his noise hadn't woken Jean up. Nothing. Still, he made sure he was more carefully with the remaining contents of the dishwasher, minimising the clatter as best he possibly could. On edge, always on edge. Why? Before it had been because he wanted the best from himself, the best grades, the quickest case or conviction rate. Now, why was he always on edge?   
_Because I don't want to hurt Jean, to disturb him. 'Why is that so important?'_ He began to wonder if it was Gisquet firing these questions, the voice sounded like him.  
 _Because I love him..._  
And then it all fell together in a single second “Because I care.” He remembered shouting that at Jean, months and months ago, but he'd forgotten it until now. No not forgotten, that had the wrong implications. It had just become so central to his life it had gone beyond needing a name. But if he could do all this because he cared for Jean, to the point of hovering too much, couldn't he extend it to the child. The child that was his and Jean's, not just Jean's. He shook his head at his own idiocy, he'd cut himself out by his own fears and actions, he'd had no reason to feel like the outsider. He could have done things so differently. Now, now he'd probably end up missing the first two years of the child's life, the important ones, always on shifts at random times or asleep the rest of it. He'd always be on the outside. Fool, fool, FOOL.

His shoulders shook silently and he realised he was crying as odd blotches began to appear on the side-top. Why was he always such an idiot, saying and acting in completely the wrong fashion? He shook his head more violently. He'd never cope, he couldn't manage nine months with Jean without it falling to pieces, he'd terrify the child in days, loosing his patience at the wrong moments, frightening the little thing. Maybe it would be better for him to be on shift most of the time until he retired, then the child might be able to understand before it faced him in a bad mood.  
“Javert? What's wrong?”  
He turned his head to find Jean standing in the doorway watching him.   
“Nothing.” He half grunted it, looking away sharply, but he heard Jean crossing the kitchen to come beside him  
“Nothing doesn't have you leaning on the work-side, crying” He felt a hand rest on his back, slip up to his shoulder “Did something bad happen at work?”  
“No... It's nothing Jean.” He tried to move away, and found himself spun back to face Jean, somehow.   
Jean looked him in the eyes “Javert. Tell me.”  
He found another heavy sigh wrenching out of his chest “You'll hate me.” It was only fair to warn Jean of what he would say.   
Jean didn't back down.   
“Last night was a shock. I've been focused on you all this time... Because I don't know what I'd do without you. I hadn't considered the child. And now I do, I find myself lacking in any required departments. I find myself on the outside... Then I realise I'm only on the outside because I put myself there, because I didn't come to appointments with you, went to work instead. Now, when I realise that, it's too late, and I find that there is no parental inclination in here.” He tapped his chest. Then he met Jean's eyes again, aware he'd looked anywhere but there during his spiel. Jean stretched up to kiss him, seeing it coming he lowered his head, Jean mustn't strain himself, certainly not on his account. When they broke apart Jean's eyes were still gentle.   
“I think you are wrong on all counts in that Javert, you're one of the most caring men I know, it's just under a rather hard exterior. But it's there, that's what matters. And it's not too late either, there's still time, there's still time.”  
Something in the way Jean said the last piece caught Javert's ears, there was a tinge there he didn't recognise, a desperate relief.   
He let his arms slip around his partner, resting his chin on Jean's head “I'm here Jean.” He felt the other man start to shake. Crying, finally letting go of whatever had burdened him for all this time. Gisquet had been right.  
“You worry about being uncaring, but what do I know of little children, an eight year old girl who was so scared it took me forever to get her to open up, while I was unthawing myself. My sister's children, they were babies but I couldn't earn enough to feed them well. That's no track record.” He pressed his head deep into Javert's chest, almost burrowing for comfort. Javert let him, just standing there, arms supporting and safe. After a long time Jean drew back, his eyes still slightly damp, wiping them with the back of his hand. Javert raised a hand, cupping his cheek gently  
“Between us, maybe, we can manage?”  
Jean nodded, covering the hand with his own “I think we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a number of alternative titles;   
> _The moment of realisation_  
>  _Javert poleaxed_  
>  _Conversation_  
>  and of course  
>  _Halleluiah, the characters are co-operating_ My favourite.


	8. Bliss

Javert sat up in bed, watching Jean. The older man was still sound asleep, his head snuggled on the edge of his pillow, breathing gently. He reached over, carding his fingers through the white hair. There was something precious about these moments, the complete relaxation that was there. Perhaps it was because Jean spent most nights shifting restlessly, as he had for ages, and it was comforting to find him resting. Perhaps it was because he knew these nights were the last month or so, perhaps less which would be unbroken, unless they were lucky. And Jean would get the shorter straw, for most weeks he'd have shifts to manage, which meant he'd still be able to sleep. It would be Jean watching and checking on their child. He felt his face tighten in a rueful grimace, feeling guilty even though they'd agreed he would be better staying in work, helping when he could. He needed to be occupied else he'd go mad from inactivity, and a baby didn't, to their thinking at least, cause distraction enough to need two people around. It was a relief despite his guilt, a gentle slope into the unknown rather than being flung in at the deep end of this new life. He let his hand slide down to rest on Jean's stomach under the covers. The child kicked and wriggled, he rubbed gently, soothing him or her to some form of stillness before it disturbed his partner. He considered, in a way he was already taking on responsibilties he might when the child was little, making sure the groceries where bought. Jean tired easily now, no surprise, and more importantly, he would have no doubt caused comment by appearance. The bump, such as it was, no longer hid under loose shirts or could be passed off as extra weight. Even if no-one actually spoke, their would be looks, snide words to be overheard, rumours. No-one needed that, them least of all. He wasn't actually sure what the neighbours thought of the two of them together, and had made no effort to find out. If he could seem to the outside as a tenant or an old friend, it was better for them. The child would change everything of course, but they didn't need strange rumours or goodness-knows-what before he or she arrived.  
Jean stirred, rolling slightly onto his back and slowly letting his eyes think about opening. He felt Javert's hand slide onto his shoulder, resting there gently.  
“You don't have to get up yet.” Javert's voice was gentle, soft. The offer was certainly tempting to him, the bed was warm and comfortable, moving meant effort.  
“What time is it?”   
“Nearly nine.”  
Nearly nine, then what was Javert doing still here? Slowly his mind provided the answer, that his partner had just come off night shift, had a week off from his work as was the way. Javert's hand crept up onto his face, still cradling gently, soothing. To sleep on would be so easy, but so lazy.  
“Stay a while, I'll come and get you when your breakfast's ready.”  
He nestled down, only just sensing the idea of something sweeping down over him and a gentle brush of lips on his ear.  
Despite his apparent laziness earlier, Javert found that Jean roused easily enough when fetched a while later. Slightly uncoordinated, but in no need of a rest or an arm as he'd sometimes become towards the evening, when the baby weighed heavier. He ate his breakfast well too, eyes alert and hungry. Today was a Myriel day, another notch off the tally stick to the time they'd have to manage a child, one more relief from worry for Jean.

The hospital was in some form of chaos when they arrived, the carpark nearly full, ditto most of the chairs. The sight of Myriel coming down the short corridor to lead them to the room was a reilf, as was the welcoming smile splitting his face.  
Javert... Good to see you again.”  
No comments on his behaviour previously, he presumed it had been forgiven.  
When they entered the room another person was there. Javert started, ready to step between Jean and this stranger, but Jean's face was wreathed in a smile the same as Myriels  
“Simplice.”  
The woman smiled, slightly, glancing at Javert. Then Myriel stepped forwards, extending his hands   
“Ah, forgive my remissness, you two haven't met yet have you, Inspector, this is Nurse Simplice, Simplice this is Inspector Javert, Jean's partner.”  
javert nodded, holding out a hand “nurse.”  
“Inspector, she bobbed the tinniest curtsy with her skirts “Jean has mentioned much of you.”  
He suppressed a wry twist of his lips, if she'd been around from the beginning, which he thought she had, no doubt that Jean had grumbled over his hovering early on.   
He quickly picked up that she was straightforward but also caring, and she could also be quite frank with her instructions. The slightly injured look on Jean's face on what was clearly a regular repetition made Myriel chuckle where he stood by Javert, having relinquished control to the nurse briefly.   
“There's a joke in the hospital that Simplice can never tell a lie, but she'd never harm anyone, and she's a wonder with complementary medicines.”  
Javert inclined his head, ignoring the first part of the speech “They're the herbal ones, yes? Arnica and the like?”  
“Correct, and the Bach flower remedies. Jean's been being dosed in those carefully, I think they've helped in holding him together, digging him out of ruts.”  
Javert had to agree, Jean hadn't been as openly emotional as he'd expected, the crying he'd dealt with after speaking to Gisquet had been quite exceptional, nor had he been irrational. He owed this Nurse a debt, to all accounts. And quietly a part of his brain remembered the tinctures his mother had given him before exams, that had calmed him down out of his nerves. The wisdom hadn't been lost, after all

 

“Do I look like a pillow?” Javert looked down to Jean, Jean who was stretching out on the sofa again and quite contentedly laying his head on his lap, without asking.  
Jean smiled up at him “You're not exactly complaining.”  
And how could he complain, they'd done a lot today, and it was strangely comfortable, knowing that Jean would probably fall asleep in a while, on him. Still... “At least I got you out of pyjamas.”  
Jean thwacked at him as best he could, and he accepted it, it was play not earnest “You're one to talk, I see slippers on the end of your legs.”  
“Ah, that's different entirely. I'm wearing my slippers because my feet are cold and to rest them from my shoes. You were wearing you pyjamas because you couldn't consider getting out of them.”  
Jean _hummphed_ at that, but his eyes were still smiling, so it was only mock crossness. Javert found himself smiling back, starting to card Jean's hair again out of habit. He'd been right at his guess, it took half an hour but eventually Jean drifted again. Javert didn't have the heart to wake him, only easing an extra cushion under the man's head, quite content to sit there, a human pillow until it was Jean's bedtime.


	9. Panic!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end arrives, almost.

The house was dark as he crept through the door, closing it behind him, exactly as should be. He shed his boots by the front door and padded up the stairs, working by feel, memory and good night vision. There was a little more light in the bedroom, courtesy of the back curtains, being ever so slightly open and the moon being full. He could at least see the curve of the covers which was Jean, no doubt fast asleep by now. Smiling, he let his hand brush Jean's shoulder, ever so lightly. Jean shifted, and he started. That movement was not an instinctive snuggle as he'd expected, but quite deliberate.  
“Why are you awake, I told you not to bother waiting up for me?” Even if Jean couldn't see his frown, it came out in his voice.   
“Something I ate doesn't like me.”  
Only then did he notice how curled into a ball his partner was, head down, arms around his abdomen.  
“Sick?”  
Jean shook his head “Maybe if I was, it would stop hurting.” A flash of humour, however sour, punctuated the words. But to Javert that showed how desperate things were. He abandoned what he'd planned to do, walking around to his side of the double bed and slipping in, then pressed him self gently against Jean's back, offering his own body warmth to help  
“Better?”   
Jean made a noise of assent, then flinched. Javert let one arm move to rest over and around Jean, a one armed hug of sorts. Slowly as gently as he could, he rubbed circles on Jean's stomach, trying to persuade whatever was causing this indigestion to behave itself. Jean nestled between him and his arm, clearly trying not to show how much he hurt. But Javert was gratefull he wasn't aware enough to roll over so they were front to front. Behind Jean's back he still had his watch on his left wrist, crooked his arm so a quick glance would tell him the time. He had his own suspicions about this indigestion, as much as he hoped they were unfounded there was only one way to know.

 _Damn, damn, and double damnation._ Javert swore inside his head. He'd hoped Jean was right, that it was just indigestion, but the facts seemed to refute that. The moments of pain were too regular, far too regular for that. He checked his watch, 5am. A sigh found its way out of his chest and Jean, curled up miserably, stirred in response.  
“We'll give it another hour then I'm taking you in to the hospital.”  
“No...” It might have been comical, the difference between the pained tone and the emphatic denial, if it wasn't such a serous situation.  
“I'm not negotiating on this Jean.” _God knows I might have left it too long already, I've been home since five past four._ “You've been in pain most of the night, and it's not lessening.”  
“Pain killers?”  
He frowned, forgetting Jean couldn't see him “Haven't you taken any?”  
“Early, but hurt too much to move later, when I needed it.” He felt Jean gulping for air, his breath wavering, as if he was always expecting the pain, tense for it.   
“Silly thing,” but he couldn't fault him, when he'd been hurt before it had been Jean running back and forth, making sure he took the tablets. He pressed his knees into Jean's back as he felt the other man curl up tighter, trying to protect himself, force the pain to move to go through and ease. If it was simply a stomach problem that curling up would have helped. As it was, he thought he felt more ease in his partner from the knees though why he couldn't fathom. Some instinct had made him do it, his arms being occupied, and Jean seemed to respond. It was enough for him, as he slowly watched the numbers change on his watch. 

He didn't want Jean in the stress of hospital any more than Jean wanted to be there, but something was wrong and even the considerate Myriel had spelt it out that if something went wrong, Jean was better in hospital. Six minute intervals, then, just as he thought he might be able to manage an unalarmed visit, based on tiredness and persistence, they dropped to five. Most unwelcome, especially as Jean had just about managed to doze around them and partly through them, just before they changed. Now he was awake again, and the hour was up. Javert shook his head sadly, weary of the difficulties they'd had already and aware, as surely Jean must be, that they would be entering a Myriel-less hospital, back into the none too tender mercies of the ordinary staff. That would go a long way to explain Jean's resistance, without being coupled to the fact he was frightened and in pain. Still, they had to go. He pressed his hand on Jean's shoulder, trying to be consoling, awaking and firm all at once   
“Jean, time to get up.”  
The reaction was what he'd expected, but it made it no more heart-rending, Jean pulled away as much as he could, pressing into his pillow “No, please no.”  
Javert found himself swallowing, forcing down a lump in his throat, he gave Jean a firm nudge before rolling out of bed on his side “Come on.”, when he looked over, having flaicked on his bedside light, Jean was also sat up, his feet over the side of the bed, his head bowed. Javert padded around to him, having to kneel to see his partner's face. It was white, Jean's eyes fearful beyond what he'd ever seen.  
“Don't make me go.”  
“We have to Jean, we both promised Myriel.” He took his partner's hands in his own, covering them completely, and put his forehead against Jean's “I won't leave your side, I promise. On my honour... I promise”   
Slowly Jean lifted his head, clearly trying to mask what was complete terror in his face. He couldn't even seem to manage a smile, though normally he would if only in acknowledgement rather than response. Javert longed to just hold him, to ward off all that fear forever, but that would simply delay, and delay wasn't what was required now.  
“Do you want me to help you dress?”  
Jean, independent Jean who would take being babied only slightly more than he would, nodded.

It took time, too long by Javert's standard, but Jean was always slightly slower, and he bit back any impatience with concern, besides it wouldn't have gone down well if he had snapped. They needed to be together now, ostracisation would have caused far more problems. If Jean's state at the moment was any indication, he thought as he eased the rugby shirt down gently, he would probably be the one doing the talking when they got to the hospital. Eventually, though they were both dressed. Getting downstairs didn't take as long as he expected, the pains, if that was what they were, were still far enough apart. At the last moment Javert quickly slipped back upstairs, snatching up the pack of paracetamol he kept in his bedside draw, and stowing it in a pocket of his jacket. It might not be much, but instinct told him to have it with him, it was always what you did not have that you wanted in an emergency.  
Jean was hunched over as he bounded back down the stairs, consciously aware of every moment, every minute. He didn't make an effort to speak to Jean, just stood close, resting a hand on his lower back gently, until the older man straightened up again, blinking clearly indicating he'd had his eyes screwed shut. Javert didn't blame him, it was instinct to try and hide from the pain, he just gently slid an arm around Jean's waist, offering whatever support he was physically capable of giving. Jean didn't lean on him much, but he was there, a third leg when he stumbled slightly, a balancing point.

The drive had never seemed so long, not even right back at the beginning of this strange situation, when they'd both been edgy and tense, so similar but so far apart with their worries. He hadn't really believed Jean then, and early on, no recently even, it had become acceptance a fait accompli. Now he found himself gripping the wheel with the same white knuckles, but for a different reason. His world would change one of four ways before his next trip back, three of which did not bear thinking about, even though they forced themselves towards the front of his brain with insistence, the same insistence with which he suppressed them. Things would be alright, they'd just had a bad draw on consultant that first time. Things had to be alright, and therefore they would be. He refused to remember the last time he'd had those thoughts, slamming an iron door, the kind used on maximum cells, onto his mind. It was dangerous to be distracted behind the wheel, he knew that, and even more dangerous at night or twilight, when the brain told him he should be asleep or the half light made everything look similar. He concentrated harder eyes even though he knew he had been alert enough, too well trained to think and be alert at the same time. But he needed a distraction from his mind's terrors. As if to confirm it he found himself He glanced back, meeting Jean's pale face in the rear view mirror. It only confirmed what he knew, that Jean was scared enough for both of them, and that he had to hold himself together, now more than ever before. Javert steadied himself, focusing firmly on the road. One stage at a time, one stage at a time.

The hospital. Jean had curled over just as he parked the car. Immediately Javert twisted, undoing his seatbelt and reaching behind him to take Jean's hand. It wasn't much, he could tell that, but surely it was something. He managed not to flinch as Jean squeezed his hand hard, that was surely the least of the pain occurring during this night. Jean had borne this without a scream, or even a whimper, what right did he have to show pain, besides he'd suffered worse, much worse. Jean had been there for him then, what could he do but return the favour? He'd been enough of a hindrance, it was time to be a help.

He had no idea how he'd kept his temper in the triage. Jean had all but fallen onto a chair as another pain came, they'd barely made it inside. They'd been shown to a room after he'd passed over a bluntly phrased letter from Myriel, effectively ordering admittance, and too a specific place. But there had been dismissive looks before that, from some, an assumption perhaps, but of what. Oh he knew there was procedure, he didn't deny that and they were all worthwhile, nor did he expect to queue jump, but it had been a younger nurse who had finally taken the letter and got things organised, not a senior. Now, even in a room, was little better, they'd simply been left. No promise to call Myriel, no offer of things for the pain.  
Jean twisted onto his side, curling up with a low animal noise, the worst sign of pain. He pulled him close, drawing him into a tight embrace  
“I'm here Jean, hold on to me. I'm here.”  
Jean's hold was more of a cling, desperate and frightened. Javert only slackened his own hold when he could tell it was over. Jean swallowed hard, gradually letting go. His eyes showed the pain as he drew back, trying to settle comfortably on the bed. Javert watched him, one ear waiting for a footfall in the corridor, a knock on the wooden door.

His watch told him it had been an hour and a half. No-one had come. The pains were worse, much worse. Jean cried out with each one, Jean who was always quiet, his throat beginning to sound raw now. Javert could only hold him through them, giving what comfort his presence could offer. In between he skimmed Myriel's letter, looking for anything that might be misinterpreted as an instance to ignore them. There was a mention that only authorised people should deal with them, presumably to stop a wildfire of gossip flying about the hospital, but surely there would have been a note to contact someone, Myriel wouldn't have left without contingency plan, he was a doctor, he knew that emergencies happened quicker than the click of fingers. This senario, minus his presence, was what he'd had flash in front of his eyes when the doctor had demanded jean's instance admittance. He couldn't believe it had come true, after how well everything had seemed to go in the intervening time, what made Fate throw them this hand?   
He released Jean, letting him lay down on the bed again to rest, and stood up walking the length of the room in long slow strides. Only one who knew him well, as Jean did, would see how his feet slammed to the floor with each step, revealing his anger barely kept in check. He faced the blank wall, glaring at it.  
“Javert.”  
“Hm”  
“If it comes to a choice between us, I want you to choose the child.”  
He felt his shoulders twitch involuntarily, expressing his denial of that, his dismissal.  
Jean's voice was soft, so calm and gentle “I've lived my life Javert, maybe more than I had any right too. The little one hasn't had that chance yet, he or her deserves it. I want you to give it to them.”  
No, Jean couldn't ask that of him, he'd lived on for Jean, initially in anger at the man's presumptuousness to stop him jumping and then love, holding Jean from sinking when Cosette left. What life did he have without Jean. He wouldn't even have the law in a year or two, when he hit retirement age. Jean, Jean was everything to him.  
“Javert... Promise me that our child will live, promise me that.”  
 _No, no, no. Jean I can't. you mean too much for me to give you up._  
 _Then you settle for infanticide, of your own child, surely you are more just than that, Inspector, you who would rather commit a mortal sin of suicide than break the moral code of arresting a fundamentally good man. And what would it do to Jean if he woke and realised you sacrificed the child he wanted so much, dreamed of and wept for, the child for which he has dealt with so much so bravely... for your own selfishness._  
He swallowed, either way he looked he was in a bind of no escape. Jean would never ever forgive him for destroying his dream if he let the child die and saved Jean. But if Jean died, what did he have left?  
The child, the child Jean dreamed of... Jean's child.  
“Dying wish Javert... Dying wish.”  
He spun around, snapping the words “Don't say that.” But Jean had invoked the one thing that would most defiantly make him agree. He'd been raised that to deny a dying wish was tantamount to a kind of treason. That was one lesson he hadn't erased from his childhood, though much was gone.  
“I promise, that if it comes to it” _Please God, don't let it_ “The child will live, chosen over you.” He hoped his voice remained steady over the last bit, but he had a feeling it might have cracked. Jean gave him the tiniest smile and held out his hands, an appeal for an embrace. He would know what it cost Javert to make such a decision, what it would cost him year after year if it had to be made. 

Javert retraced his steps, taking Jean's hands and sitting down in the chair he'd dragged up to the bed early on. He looked at him, simply looked and silently prayed to God that he would not lose the man he loved, however saintly Jean behaved. That he was worth so much more down here on earth than up in heaven. Then, as he looked, he realised why everything was as it was. Jean was, what, 65? There had been talk that as soon as people got to a certain age the doctors stopped taking notice of them. He hadn't really believed it, until now. But it was all too easy to believe, perhaps because he was no longer an outside observer but involved by the person he loved. He held Jean as he doubled again, shaking silently with anger even as he soothed. This shouldn't happen, it was so wrong, platitudes of I'm here, I know it hurts, and stroking his partners back weren't anywhere near close enough. Paracetamol barely made a dent either. He was helpless, but he could do nothing to get help, he couldn't leave Jean... and pressing the button might just be ignored.  
 _God, I know my faith wanders but Jean's does not, help him now._

Simplice flicked through the admission records of the ward, establishing who was where, the brief records of those who she would be caring for during this shift. Then she stopped, pressing the page of the folder flat. She swallowed, then strode quickly to the nearest phone. It took seconds for the number to dial in, longer seconds for the other end to pick up.  
“Yes?” Myriel's voice was as calming and easy as ever.  
“Valjean was admitted, suffering cramps” She took a deep breath, knowing he was listening carefully “He was admitted nearly two hours ago.”  
There was a silence, a silence that had it been any other person might have been filled with expletives. But when the doctor spoke, his voice was as calm as still water “Get the team together please Simplice, I'll be there in five minutes.”  
She slicked the phone down into its cradle, heading off into the net of the hospital. By sheer luck she knew that the team as Myriel called them were on shift tonight, which would make this part of the organisation relatively easier. Her instincts told her to check on the patient first, but she had her instructions, and a small part of her knew exactly why the doctor had delegated that task to himself.

Myriel knocked on the door then pushed it open, without waiting for a permission. Before both feet were over the threshold he found himself being subjected to a glare which had an intent to kill, had he been anyone else he thought it might have. As it was Javert's eyes immediately softened, nearly watering with relief. Myriel watched as he gently tapped the curled over Jean on the shoulder  
“Jean, look who it is.” even the inspector's voice was slightly wobbly, something he'd never thought possible.  
Javert's relief he found to be mirrored, far more powerfully, in the pain glazed eyes of his primary patient. Myriel stepped forwards, covering the ground to the bed, until he stood beside them. Poor Jean, to get caught in a mess of not-speaking departments, of all people to get caught.  
“Has nobody offered pain-relief.”  
It was Javert who answered “No, I think we were forgotten, until you came on shift.” The anger in his voice was very very clear, bitten back only, Myriel suspected, because he was the man who would help them.  
Well that settled the first thing to be dealt with “I'll see what can be done.”

“It's stopped hurting.”  
The pitiful relief in his partner's voice made Javert's heart sing out. The needling required for the epidural had been worse for him than Jean, for some reason he just wasn't keen on the thin pointy things. Not a phobia of such, just an intense dislike. Jean, he'd become so blind to the pain, that a bit more with the promise of relief meant nothing. Javert took another sip of coffee that sat beside him, a special gift from Simplice, won from the staff coffee pot, not the watery shop coffee. He held Jean's hand with his own, an easy loose grip that they were used to now, no more bone breaking attempts. They wouldn't have to wait much more, Myriel was organising a few things, something to do with a team of operation, which he'd mentioned in one of their last meetings.  
“Soon”  
He nodded. Soon indeed. And now, crisis resolved, all his old doubts began to come back and badger, all those which he though Gisquet had put to rest, that he had suppressed with Jean's help months ago. He twitched like a horse with a fly or a dog with an itch, driving them back. Not now, not ever again.  
The door opened and he turned to see Myriel, smiling gently as ever. It was time. 

Javert kept his eyes on Jean's face, only half aware of the surgeons working beyond the drape. The hat tickled at his hair, but at least he didn't have to wear one of the face masks, they'd pared him that.   
Jean's eyes shone to him, full of joy and hope. The hope was in his own too he knew, though it had a different cause, he still pleaded that nothing would go wrong, yes they were reeling back, but he was too sceptical to accept it, life could be very very cruel sometimes. He wouldn’t settle 'til they were both alive and out of danger. The babe had a will to live, he wasn't sure if Jean's hand been quenched or re-ignited, he hadn't managed to ask. And now he waited, tapping Jean to ruefully draw the man's attention back to him rather than strain his neck trying to see over the drape.  
“Use your ears, they'll tell you first.” Jean nodded but he kept trying to see. Javert smiled slightly, no way begrudging the eagerness. Jean had longed for this for years on end, and now, now his dream was finally coming true.  
Screaming, squawky crying. Jean's eyes flew back to him for a split second, filled with hope and a wild joy, then he was trying to crane his neck again. Javert looked along the line of professionals, to see Simplice carrying something away. Then Myriel caught her eye and held up his hand  
“No, let them see first.”  
Simplice came forward now and Javert stepped away, letting her next to Jean, she passed him a wriggling small bundle.  
“Hello, little one... Hello.”  
He'd never heard Jean use that tone before, so soft and sweet and gentle. The bundle stopped striking about, snuffling rather screeching. Javert watched his partner cradling the small thing, so tender, so nurturing. And the smile, so small, but so joyful.  
He glanced up to Myriel, seeing a great beam split his face, a beam mirrored in each of the staff as they fulfilled and finished their tasks. The moment stretched and stretched, until Simplice leant carefully over, speaking to Jean and taking the baby back from him. His ears seemed to be deaf, his eyes sharp as he returned to his place at Jean's side. Jean looked at him, his expression indescribable joy.  
“Our son”   
Javert took his hand squeezing it in return, he had no words to match that.   
Simplice returned, holding their precious gift, and this time she held it out to him  
“Would you like to hold him?”  
He stepped back, surely this was Jean's moment? But Jean held his hand, pulling him forwards. He glanced down, a question in his eyes. Jean nodded encouragement, releasing his hand. He held out his arms, closing them gently around the blanket bundle, setting it in the crook of one arm. The boy squeaked, reaching out with one hand, groping. Javert found his right forefinger being grabbed and held. Blue eyes, his own eyes, looked up at him, holding him transfixed. They might change, but now they were great pale blue pools that his bitter old soul drowned and transformed in.  
“Hello child...” He didn't recognise his own voice, he didn't recognise himself, as he held his child with tender care, staring down into that face which was both of them, him and Jean combined. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Quast, both for his Javert and for his Donmar song Colour and Light, which has been on loop for a few days to write this.
> 
> Comments loved dearly, one more chapter to go I think


	10. Relationships count, of all kinds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things wrap themselves up, and calm down at last

Jean's expression was so blissful, so complete. Yes, complete that was the word, as he sat up in bed, the boy in his arms. He caught Jean's eye, returning the smile as he edged forwards, slipping his phone out of his pocket, and taking a photograph of their son.  
Jean raised an eyebrow, but he kept his smile “For the notice board?”  
Javert shrugged “Maybe.”  
“If you go into work today Javert, I will make sure Gisquet knows that you have not had a wink of sleep in twelve hours. Go home, stay home and Go. To. _Sleep_.”  
They were fair words, all too true, though it rubbed against his lessening time in the job. Still, he was certain it was only adrenaline and coffee keeping him going at that moment. He changed the subject, nodding to the baby “What are we going to call him?”  
“François, remember?”  
He did remember now, the final parts of that discussion nine months ago. He glanced at the baby, measuring the name against the being “François... it fits, I think.” The boy squeaked and he smiled, as did Jean. “Approval from the greatest source.”   
There was a moment of silence, then too his surprise, it was Jean who raised the next question “God parents? I want Myriel, if he is allowed to, I think you'd want Jennifer in there.”  
Javert stared at him, he had just been considering the very fact. But the obvious problem reared it's merry head “She's Anglican...”  
“And if a problem is raised, then Father will have me to deal with, she's of good moral character and she's been a rock for you these last months.” He hadn't heard that much fire from Jean since he'd been drafted in to carrying that stupid lawyer-suitor now husband, of Cosette. “Now, one more.”  
His mind still a year behind, Javert could only think of one, he growled his next words “If you suggest Marius...”  
“Thank you for the suggestion” Jean leant out of his reach as he spoke, putting a protective arm over François even as he laughed “I jest, I jest.”  
Javert sat down again, shooting him a glare “It's your choice.” They sat in silence, thinking until finally Jean shook his head “We'll leave it at two... I can't think of anyone else except Cosette and I've managed to lose track of her.”  
Javert nodded, he could probably track down Cosette if Jean wanted him too, he was owed favours, and Gisquet would help too, but it seemed his partner wanted to draw a line between them, between parts of his life. He could understand that, he didn't want to see his mother again, but then when he considered what he knew, how much Jean had risked to help the girl, it did seem very strange. He made his mind settle in the present, settling onto the bed and looking over Jean's shoulder and their son, the dream made solid. François.

If he hadn't been so tired, he might have been woken up by the constant buzzes and pings his phone was making in the early evening, then through the night. As it was he slept soundly through them, waking up in the morning to find the message light flashing persistently at him. He slid the pass code in, and sat up in bed to read them, good habits of getting up when you woke up gone out the window for now. Anyone there would have seen a smile on his face and then heard a most unusual thing, the stern inspector laughing until he had no breath left to make noise with, and his face tilted to the ceiling to release the mirth. He'd always set himself apart from his work colleagues, but it seemed they had fewer reservations regarding him as one of their number. It was a comforting feeling, to realise that there would be others who would look out for Jean and now François should anything happen. It shouldn't, Gisquet was assigning him far too much paperwork to allow him patrol, but there was always a chance. He twitched off the thought after a moment, returning himself to the messages. They themselves were more heart felt than amusing, but the juxtaposition of a few were amusing. 

Myriel was sitting on Jean's bed as he opened the door a crack. This was probably part of an official visit but it seemed to have dropped into informality, the two chuckling and smiling between each other. Only when Jean spotted him peeking through the door and looked pointedly over Myriel's shoulder in his direction did the conversation break off, Myriel stand up and everything regain a semblance of professionalism.   
He nodded to the doctor as he crossed the room, “Myriel” and gained a smile in return for his courtesy, kissed Jean lightly on the lips and perched himself, long legs dangling, on the corner of the bed, tucking one arm over Jean's shoulders to briefly support himself while he shifted his weight. When he looked for the doctor he found Myriel standing over by the door, smiling as he always seemed to be, apart from that brief flash of, had it been anger?, the night before last when he'd arrived to find them.  
“I'll leave you three alone.” Myriel slipped out the door with that parting goodbye. Javert was stumped for a moment then spotted the cot to the far side of Jean's bed. He nodded to it.  
“How's he been?”  
“Wonderful, not a peep last night, until a midwife came in to open the curtains this morning, I think her clattering woke him up.”   
“Well if he keeps that up, he'll be welcome at home.”  
Jean's elbow caught him right in the stomach “So says the one who won't be doing much of the getting up when he cries, you with your shifts.”  
He squarked outrage “I will too be getting up, you're not allowed to overexert yourself until your stomach heals out, so I've got time off from work when you come home, otherwise neither of you would be able eat.”  
Jean was silent for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. His hand covered Javert's own and gave it gentle squeeze “Thank you Javert.”  
He smiled back, his eyes probably glowing love “It's nothing Jean, I was being selfish wanting to stay on shift.”  
Jean accepted that without comment, but the mention of work tickled Javert's mind and he fished out his phone, tapping the pass-code “Have a look at what was in this morning when I woke.”

Jean took the phone, only to burst out laughing at the picture which came up. One of the big magnetic boards used for investigations. But instead of paper pinned over it the magnetic circles used as pins were grouped together to form letters; _CONGRATS!_  
Javert tapped his shoulder “Read the texts that came with it.”

From _Jennifer_

 _PS, We know you hate abbreviations, but we ran out of magnets!_   
_PPS Get better soon Jean, what bad luck_

From _Gisquet_

_Inspector Javert, I hold you responsible for the distinct decrease in paperwork done by all those desk bound on this shift. You are also accessory to misuse of police evidence board magnets for frivolous messages._

_My felicitations and congratulations to you both. :)_

Jean felt a smile stretching over his face “That's sweet of them all, even Gisquet seems to see the fun side.”  
Javert nodded “There's more, from anyone I have in my contacts on that shift-group, but those two were the best.”  
He looked back down, flipping back to Jennifer's text “Why does she say get better soon? What did you tell them Javert?” He stared at his partner, nervous suddenly as Javert avoided his eyes.  
“Gisquet must have told them, when I excused myself from last night, I said you'd gone down with appendicitis.” Jean waited and sure enough Javert gave him an angry and bitter look “It was all I could think of, and we needed some explanation. Especially since I'm staying on for a week, then taking leave.”  
“Did I criticise?”  
That seemed to throw Javert for a moment, and he stared at him, with the look that told Jean he was trying to decide if he was being mocked. Eventually he seemed to decide the question was genuine “No.” Javert looked away again, getting off the bed and walking round to François's cot “But I didn't think you'd agree, you're honest to a fault.”  
Jean had to laugh at that, the number of false names he'd lived under until he'd been pardoned “And so are you, Inspector, I was simply surprised you lied so well, given how poorly you did with the boys.”  
Javert glanced at him, his eyes hard “When it matters, then I can lie... they would only have thought me mad, if I said the truth. Fiction is more believable than fact in this case.”  
Jean extended his hand “Javert... Don't put your walls up again.“

Javert rested his hands lightly on the edge of the cot, staring down at François. He'd over reacted again, expecting to be challenged even by Jean, who knew that he would never do anything, especially lying, without much soul searching and desperation. And Jean was right, his reaction was if attacked, to first strike, and then separate himself out, avoid whatever damage he might have caused.  
On the tail-end of that thought, François opened his eyes, gazing up at him easily and only chirping a noise rather than shrieking. Javert bent and picked him up, cradling him on instinct. He hoped the boy's eyes would stay blue, as Jean had dreamed of. Somehow, looking down at his own eyes, so deep, so gentle and blemish-less, made it harder to drive him self away as had been his way for so long. To push himself away was to abandon part of himself now, more than when he'd fallen in love with Jean. Jean, as old as he was, would always wait for him to come back, Francios, the child wouldn't, wasn't capable of doing so. Now he would treasure every moment, make himself a part of this boy's life, as his parents never had for him. This had been Jean's dram, but now he realised that in some dark corner it had perhaps been his as well, a chance to change himself, to let his emotions back out from where they had been locked in for so long now. A chance to break those walls. He turned to Jean and walked to his side, gently transferring François to his partner's arms. With one forefinger he reached out and gently touched his son's cheek.  
“What walls, Jean? I don't seem able to find them any more.”  
He felt Jean's arm come around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss. He cupped his partner's face in his hands as he returned it. But even when they broke apart Jean didn't relax his grip, holding him nose to nose, eye to eye   
Jean's voice was soft, but powerful and confident “Because I believed, and that made it real.”   
He nodded, slipping to sit on the corner and his arm tight around Jean again, staring down at François even as he spoke “Yes... I think that sums it up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the end, everyone who is reading. Hope you've enjoyed it. Comments are more than welcome
> 
> theoreticallychaotic, in thanks for all your comments, I am gifting this story to you. Enjoy a late Xmas present


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